hither Among the Italtan gentry, and to fight heavens, Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me SCENE II.-The same. Enter, at one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army; at the other side, the British army; LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following it, like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS; he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him. Iach. The heaviness and guilt within bosom As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken; then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but Post. Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,— He, with two striplings (lads more like to run 66 Stand; Or we are Romans, and will give you that save, But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!"-These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many (For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing), with this word, "Stand, stand!" Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness (which could have turned A distaff to a lance), gilded pale looks, Part, shame, part, spirit renewed; that some, turned coward But by example (O, a sin in war Damned in the first beginners!), 'gan to look The strides they victors made. And now our cowards (Like fragments in hard voyages) became The life o' the need having found the back-door open : Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound! Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends O'er-borne i' the former wave: ten, chaced by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: give me The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, I cannot do it better than in gyves, I know you are more clement than vile men, Solemn Music. Enter, as an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient Matron, his wife, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with music before them. Then, after other music, follow the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They circle POSTHUMUS round, as he lies sleeping. Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, shew With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stayed, Attending Nature's law. Whose father then (as men report Thou orphans' father art) Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes; Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, That he deserved the praise o' the world, 1st Bro. When once he was mature for man, That could stand up his parallel; Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mocked, Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy ; And to become the geck and scorn 2nd Bro. For this, from stiller scats we came, Our parents, and us twain, That, striking in our country's cause, 1st Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Being all to dolours turned? Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out; Upon a valiant race, thy harsh Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help! To the shining synod of the rest, Against thy deity. 2nd Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. JUPITER descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle; he throws a thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees. Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you, ghosts, Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: Be not with mortal accidents oppressed; No care of yours it is; you know t'is ours. Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift, The more delayed, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reigned at his birth, and in Our temple was he married.-Rise, and fade! He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein mine.— Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine; And so, away: no farther with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends. Sici. He came in thunder: his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stooped, as to foot us; his ascension is More sweet than our blessed fields: his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased. |